


Skinned Knees

by apollos



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood, High Heels, M/M, Meet-Cute, minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6284329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollos/pseuds/apollos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle falls in love. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinned Knees

Already thoroughly humiliated by Russian 102, having forewent a homework assignment he didn't think they would spend the entirety of the hour going over in painstaking detail in small groups, Kyle's day got worse when, as he exited the building, his foot slipped from his shoe and he fell on his right knee. Knowing he was unable to stop himself once his knee hit the ground, he rocked backwards and planted his ass on the pavement, so at least he would not expose himself underneath the dress he was wearing.

Face burning, the first thing he did was try to slip his foot back into his shoe, planning on a quick escape. But that took forever, humid humiliation making his eyes swim, and while he was in the midst of wrangling his toes back into his wedge a guy came over and asked him if he was alright.

Kyle looked up at the guy and, _somehow_ , felt even more mortified, because this guy was cute, cute in the crunchy type of way that a certain population of the campus was and that Kyle tended to turn his nose up at. But this guy, this crunchy guy with hair that was too long and unfashionably cool, had beautiful and very blue eyes that seemed like he really cared that Kyle was alright. "This is the worst day of my life," Kyle said.

"Did you break something?" the guy asked. He bent down to examine Kyle.

"No, no." Kyle's foot slid back into his shoe and he stood up, looking down at the knee that he fell on. It was bleeding. "Just skinned my knee, it seems."

"You should disinfect that." The guy's hands hovered around Kyle like he wanted to help but was unsure of how. "I, uh. I could help."

Kyle raised his eyebrows, his face hot.

"I'm EMS," the guy said. "But I'm off duty right now."

Kyle tried to think if he'd seen this guy around campus in the EMS uniform, which Kyle found incredibly hot, and came up short. Not a partier, he had limited experience with EMS anyway. "I'm fine," he decided, eventually, having enough of this situation.

"Not really." The guy pointed at Kyle's leg. Kyle looked down again and saw a thick trail of blood, nearly to his ankle. Blood made him woozy; he immediately swooned into the cute crunchy EMS guy. "Whoa," the guy said. "Here."

And that was how Kyle found himself being carried across campus, cradled in the arms of this guy like an incapacitated child.

"Keep your leg as horizontal as possible," the guy said, "'cause gravity will draw the blood down. And, uh, I'm going to take you back to my room. It's close. I have a lot of first aid stuff there."

"Are you going to rape me?" Kyle asked. He looked up at the guy. He had a strong, masculine chin, and Kyle was glad, because he found guys with weak chins so unattractive.

"What? No—I would never! It's my moral duty to respond to those in need as a certified EMS professional." He seemed very sincere about that last part. Kyle swooned in an entirely unrelated matter. There was a moment of awkward silence, Kyle's mortification coming back to him in waves.

"What's your name?" Kyle asked, trying to keep his mind otherwise occupied.

"Stan," the guy said. _Of course_ , Kyle thought. He groaned. "Are you alright?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. My name's Kyle."

"Cool," Stan said, and he smiled down at Kyle. They were nearing one of the dorms, Kyle realized—Jones Hall. "Can you stand for a second?" Stan asked.

"Yeah." Stan put Kyle down and Kyle leant against the brick wall of the building while Stan dug around in the front pocket of his backpack, which was one of those khaki ones meant for outdoors activities that all the crunchy guys on campus had, for his ID. He found it, opened the door and kept it propped open with one foot while he swooped Kyle back up in his arms. Kyle noted that he did not wear those terrible strappy sandals or Birkenstocks, but instead a pair of Converse, which were beat up but otherwise normal.

Stan lived on the second floor of Jones in a room near the staircase. It was one of the bigger rooms on campus, and Stan's side was messy but not overbearingly so, while the other side was totally trashed. Stan deposited Kyle on his bed, which had deep navy sheets and a single blanket kicked towards the bottom. While Stan got a first aid kit off the shelf above his closet Kyle observed the room further: Stan had minimal decoration, mostly small pictures of nature tacked to various parts of the wall. There was a guitar case in his closet behind a bunch of flannels, and on the shelf above that, a sleeping bag the first aid kit, and cleaning supplies that looked unused. His desk had heavy textbooks and a few light novels on it, and there were pictures of what seemed to be his family and a pretty dark-haired girl. Kyle's heart sank.

Stan turned around and saw what Kyle was looking at. "That's Wendy," he said. "We dated when were kids, but. She's my best friend." Then Stan turned red and added: "I'm gay now. Or, well, I always was, but—"

"Me too," Kyle said, cutting off his stammering speech. "Obviously." He gestured to his dress and his shoes.

"That doesn't mean anything." Stan walked over and sat on the bed, beside Kyle's outstretched leg. "But you shouldn't wear these type of shoes when you're walking around campus. It's too bumpy and poorly paved. Very easy to fall."

"But they're good shoes," Kyle protested. Realizing he was wearing them on Stan's bed, he pried them off his feet, admiring them briefly. They were short black wedges with straps around the ankles. They truncated Kyle's legs, but they were cute when worn with delicate socks. "They're from ModCloth!"

"Well, they're not appropriate for the campus." Stan smiled as he said this and pulled Kyle's foot into his lap, ostensibly to get better access to Kyle's knee. He opened the first aid kit and pulled out a baby wipe, cleaning his hands, then produced a washcloth from somewhere, poured water on it from the bottle from his backpack and started cleaning Kyle's leg. "So, Kyle," he said. "I haven't seen you around before."

"I haven't seen you, either," Kyle said, defensively. He was in a very compromising position. "I'm a sophomore."

"Me too." Stan set the washcloth aside and took a small packet of antibacterial ointment from the kit. "This is going to sting," he said, as he snipped it open with a small pair of scissors.

"That's okay." It was not, though, because as soon as it hit Kyle's knee, he yelped.

Stan smiled in a way that made it seem to Kyle that he was suppressing laughter. "Do you want something to bite down on?"

"No, you dick. Just—do your job." At this point, Kyle realized this whole situation was vaguely arousing, and his embarrassment came back like a wrecking ball to his gut, his face heating up.

"Anyway," Stan said, now reaching for a bandage. "I'm Stan, I'm a sophomore, I'm EMS and I'm premed. I don't really party, so that's probably why we haven't met."

"I don't either," Kyle said.

"I see enough of it, being an EMS. Do you know how many times I've been puked on?"

"Ew." Kyle crinkled his nose.

"I know." Stan pressed down on the sides of the Band-aid, cementing to Kyle's skin, then pushed Kyle's foot out of his lap. "All done," he said.

Kyle retracted his leg so that he could cross it over his other one. There was a beat where they stared at each other, and then Stan leaned in, putting one hand behind Kyle's head and his mouth to Kyle's. Stan smelled very good, and his lips were very soft, but he was sort of a bad kisser, but it was okay, because one of his hands was wrapped around Kyle's, under the dress, and his hands were gentle doctor's hands but they gripped Kyle's thigh with a sort of primordial roughness.

"Shit. Is this okay?" Stan asked, drawing back.

Kyle nodded. "How else would I repay you?" he asked.

Stan frowned. "Dude, don't feel like you have to."

"It was a joke."

"Oh."

"Ugh, just kiss me again!"

Stan did.


End file.
